


Stitched

by GarnetSeren



Series: The Dark Prince [3]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon Divergence - Pre-Thor (2011), F/M, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Loki Needs a Hug, Major Character Injury, Mild Gore, Mother-Son Relationship, Mouth Sewn Shut, Pre-Movie(s), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Thor (2011), Young Love, young loki, young thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetSeren/pseuds/GarnetSeren
Summary: Queen Frigga has summoned her, and all Lady Arnora knows is that Loki needs her... but that's enough. She rides like a whirlwind to reach the golden palace, unsure of what she will find, but knowing she will do anything to help the dark prince.Set pre-movies, inspired by the Norse myth of Loki's mouth being sewn shut. No actual injury takes place in the story, though it is mentioned, with some mild reference to blood and mutilation.*Dedicated to the memory of the illustrious Stan Lee*





	Stitched

As they thundered across the bifrost, Arnora stood in her stirrups, urging her dappled mare to go faster. She didn't care how unseemly she looked, clad in black leather breeches and riding astride her mount, all that matter was how quickly she could cross the rainbow bridge. Her cape and hair blew wildly behind her, as she cracked the reins, hoping for just one more burst of speed as the golden palace came into view. Arnora had only received Queen Frigga's frantic summons just that morning, and had swept through her rooms like a hurricane to prepare, before riding like a surtr was harrying her steps. She didn't know much, just that Loki was injured... but that was enough. Evidently the queen had sent word ahead, for no other than Fandral was waiting for her. Without hesitation, Arnora flung herself from her horse, grabbed her saddle bags, and jogged to meet him. The fencer's usually smiling mouth was set in a grim line, as he threw her pack over his shoulder, before leading the way into the palace. They moved quickly, silently, and Arnora pointedly ignored the scandalised whispers from milling courtiers, horrified to see a woman wear breeches. Not that she cared, she had no time for such vapid creatures, even on the best of days. Though eventually, only her and Fandral's fast footsteps could be heard throughout the glittering halls, and Arnora knew they had reached the royal family's private wing. There was a sombre feeling to the place, one that hadn't been present the last time she'd been in the area; when she'd dined with the dark prince, as chaperones to Sæunn and Fandral's date. Perhaps the fencer also felt the strange atmosphere, as he reduced his jogging steps to more of a power walk, before suddenly clearing his throat.  
  
“Nora...” he began, hesitantly. “It's... not good.”

A lump formed in her throat. “Life threatening?”

“No, but perhaps... worse?” Fandral stated. “I don't know all that happened; I was out escorting the Queen on her tour of the new healing buildings, and Thor was in too much of a state to tell us anything properly when we arrived back.”

Unable to help herself, Arnora stopped dead. “What happened?”

Fandral sighed. “Allfather ordered Loki's mouth sewn shut, he had Thor hold him whilst it happened.”

“Pardon?” she asked, deathly calm.

“As I said, I don't know much,” he explained. “The Queen is furious, even if she can't do anything publicly, I have no doubt she will give Odin Hel for it in private.”

“What in the nine realms could possess Odin to order such a punishment, and on his son... sons?”

“Thor mentioned something about a bet and dwarves, I would suppose that was Loki's supposed crime,” Fandral said. “And he argued with Allfather, on Loki's behalf.”

“Which was Thor's crime,” she surmised, grimly. “And why he was forced to participate in his brother's punishment.”

“Can't have open dissent, even amongst family,” Fandral agreed, darkly.

It was Arnora's turn to sigh. “Please, just take me to Loki...”

* * *

Quietly, Arnora inched the large wooden door open, and was immediately hit by the heavy scent of incense... evidently the Queen had called other healers to assist her son. The room was dark, thick green drapes blocking out the noontime sun. She unbuckled her black cloak, dropping it to the floor, and with a tense smile she took her saddle bags from Fandral. He left silently, the lock barely making a sound as it clicked shut behind him. Cautiously, Arnora crept further into the room, rolling up the sleeves of her deep purple tunic as she went. She still wasn't entirely sure what she was about to find, but she was certain action would be needed immediately. Walking through the seating area, she nodded respectfully to the pair of young healers who sat folding bandages, before passing into the prince's bedchamber. It was even darker inside, lit only by a lonely candle, that flickered on the bedside table. Beside the candle stood a bowl of pinkish water, a severely stained cloth sat discarded nearby. 

The famed healer Eir was hovering at the foot of the bed, whilst Queen Frigga sat on a stool pulled up to the bedside, and there propped up on golden silk pillows was Loki. The dark prince was a shadow of his former self. His already pale complexion was wan, his raven hair sweat soaked and curling at the nape of his neck, his handsome face was mottled with purple bruises, as was the small amount of torso Arnora could see above the emerald green eiderdown. But the most gruesome of all was his mouth, raggedly sewn shut with what appeared to be golden thread, that was now stained a deep crimson. It took a matter of heartbeats for Arnora to catalogue the injuries, before her gaze rose to meet Loki's eyes, and what she saw there broke her heart. Pain was obvious and expected, but what she hadn't expected was the shame that was so evident. He looked away from her, instead studying rich material of his eiderdown. In the same moment, Queen Frigga stood to clasp both Arnora's hands in hers.

“I am so thankful you have come, my dear,” the queen said, quietly.

“Nothing would have kept me away,” she replied, sincerely.

Her sentiment must have surprised the prince, because he quickly glanced up at her, giving Arnora the chance to offer him a small smile... even if it was one that didn't quiet reach her eyes.

“The prince will not let anyone tend him,” Eir stated. “Though her highness hopes you might have more success, child.”

“All he's allowed me to do is dab the blood away,” Queen Frigga confined, clearly worried.

Arnora squeezed her elegant fingers comfortingly. “I will do my best, you have my word.”

The queen's shoulders visibly relaxed, before she ushered the elder healer out of the bedchamber. “I am certain my son does not wish for an audience,” she said as they left.

Once she was certain they were alone, Arnora turned her attention back to the prince. His beautiful green eyes regarded her, almost warily, as she moved towards the bed. Unable to help herself, she leant forward, and placed a soft kiss to the unbruised skin of his forehead. If she hadn't been so close, Arnora was certain she would have missed the surprised inhalation Loki gave, followed by the small whimper of pain. Tears pricked her eyes, as she pulled back just enough to look at him properly, and as gently as she could, Arnora cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand. Loki's initial reaction was to flinch, though he soon eased into her touch. Ever so carefully, she ran her thumb along his high cheekbone.

“I can't promise it will be pain free, but I do swear I will make it as quick and as bearable as possible,” she whispered. “Do you trust me?”

The fact that the prince nodded without hesitation, brought fresh tears to Arnora's eyes. Blinking them away, she reached for her saddle bags, pulling out a small pair of beautifully gilded scissors, enchanted so they always remained wickedly sharp. She also produced a small vial of amber liquid, that released a heavy floral fragrance the moment it was uncorked, and poured some onto a clean rag. What she was about to do would be far from pleasant for Loki, but it would help him immensely. The oil had antiseptic and anaesthetic properties, and it would also moisten the prince's lips and the golden thread, hopefully making it easier to remove. So with careful hands, Arnora pressed the fabric to his mutilated mouth, almost wincing when she heard him whimper in pain. After a few careful dabs of the oil, she took up the scissors, pausing briefly to caress Loki's cheek.

“It will be over soon,” she promised.

With that, Arnora positioned herself to make the first cut, the pointed blade having to slip between the prince's barely open lips to do so. Her hands remained steady, though she still felt the need to take a calming breath, before she made the first snip. In heavy silence, Arnora steadily cut the once golden thread, trying not to wince at each of Loki's quiet murmurs of pain. Time lost all meaning as she diligently worked, easing the cord out of the puncture wounds as gently as she could. When the last of the blood soaked thread was removed, Arnora took a moment to douse another clean rag in the floral oil, quietly instructing the prince to press it to his mouth, as her attention returned to the offending cord. She longed to dash the remnants into a fire, but with none burning in the hearth, Arnora settled for holding each piece over the flickering candle. The smell of the wicked enchantments hung acrid in the air, before the gruesome thread finally succumbed to the flames. Silence filled the room, once the last of the spells had crackled to death, and Arnora took the opportunity to wash her hands in a pitcher of clean water, she found on a nearby sideboard. Though she quickly returned to Loki's beside, when she thought she heard him whisper her name. Gently, Arnora stroked his sweat soaked hair away from his forehead, before she daringly perched on the side of the prince's bed. The look he gave her was so full of surprise and longing, that Arnora couldn't help but place another soft kiss to his forehead.

“The oil will have already cleansed your wounds, so there is no more I can do until the swelling has receded. It will most likely be a day or two, before I will know if you need any healing seidr,” she explained, quietly. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my prince?”

A blush suddenly spread across Loki's pale cheeks. “I will not force you to stay, my lady,” he murmured, wincing as his wounds pulled painfully. “Though I beg you not to leave.”

Arnora cupped his bruised cheek, carefully. “I will always be by your side, Loki. Never doubt that.”

The prince's blush turned positively crimson. “You honour me... my love.”

 


End file.
